Alternative Ending - Bittersweet Memories
by ANerdyFangirl394
Summary: My other, shorter pathway for my multi chapter, much happier story Dean and Jo - Son of a Bitch! Some fluff and angst here! Dean mourns Jo - until a miracle occurs.
1. Dean's Worst Nightmare

This is my first one guys, I'm going to update as often as I can, it's going to be a multichapter one I guess! Dean and Jo everybody from Supernatural. Um, the first chapter will be the saddest, it gets happier don't worry :)

Dean heaved a sigh, and slowly walked towards the small house next to the burnt remains of the roadhouse. His heart thumped. He didn't know why he was here, or what to expect. He knew that Jo and Ellen were dead, he knew that nothing but bittersweet memories would be here, but he came here anyway.

Maybe it was because he needed to feel something, finally, and let his emotions loose. Or maybe it was because he needed a simple reminder of a happier time. A happier place. A happier soul trapped inside his aching, exhausted body. A time where he could suppress love and lust for his work, but look forward to the next time. The next time Ellen would welcome him and his brother in, clap them on the back and pour them a beer. The next time Jo would walk in, swinging her tiny hips and brush her blond locks behind her ear. The next time, he would sit, and make eye contact with her - and that one moment of recognition would send something much stronger than butterflies to his stomach. The next time the four of them, with maybe Bobby and Ash, would just laugh and relax and rejoice over the people they had saved. Dean was looking to remember the time when he had a safe haven, in the midst of the world and its chaos. When he had a family of sorts, where he was loved and respected. Dean missed the old Sam. Dean missed the old Dean. Dean missed Ellen with a serious pang, and Jo with a constant, grinding ache. Most of all, Dean missed the knowledge that they were all there to go home to. That they were all still there. Dean missed all of it, and as he reached the porch of the house next to the roadhouse, he sat on the steps and put his head in his rough hands. He ruffled his hair back, and felt a lump slowly form in his throat. At first he tried to push back the emotions, and fight this urge to cry, but he couldn't. He couldn't stop missing the Harvelles. And he couldn't stop thinking about the emptiness that lay in his stomach, his head, his heart.

What broke Dean down, was when he remembered Jo letting him kiss her. She was dying, and he let his soft, supple lips press against her forehead. And then, those two beautiful pink lips he had been desperate to kiss for so long. It should have been a moment of joy, release and excitement. Instead, he had felt extreme sorrow, and anger at himself. He could have done something earlier, told her he loved her. Kissed her, loved her, talked to her. He could have saved her, if he only acknowledged he loved her. But he left it too late. She died. He lived. But what was this living? How was this pain life?

"It serves me right." Dean whispered to himself. "I was too damn late." His eyes slowly glazed over with tears. He could no longer see, so he blinked, and the first fat tear drop spilled over. "I WAS TOO LATE! I MISSED HER AND NOW SHE'S DEAD!" He screamed, and then something in him broke. So Dean cried. And cried. And cried. He sobbed, shoulders heaving, green eyes streaming, loss pounding at every inch of him. "She's fucking gone and I'm left missing her." He whispered again. He leaned his head back against the door, and carried on crying. He let go of his tight grip on his emotional reins and continued to cry, scream and sob. Strangely, a kind of relief entered his system, he could just accept his loss. He could cry. Sam wasn't here to give him a concerned glance. Bobby wasn't here to punch him and tell him to man up. He was fine, until he remembered that Jo wasn't here to hug him better, either. So he continued to sob in the way that no one had ever seen Dean Winchester sob, and hurt in the way that no one would have imagined Dean Winchester could.


	2. Dean's Dream Girl

It was hours later, when exhausted, Dean Winchester fell asleep on the porch, aching, hurting, and remembering. It was hours later when, a young, slim, blond woman, wearing a black vest and skinny jeans, stepped out of her old car, and walked towards a man asleep on her porch. It was hours later, that Jo Harvelle found Dean Winchester collapsed, tear tracks staining his roughly shaved face, ridiculously beautiful, and crouched down to touch his shoulder.

Dean shifted, and awoke to see his dream girl, crouched over him, shaking him gently. For a moment, he took in her deep, thoughtful brown eyes, her pale, smooth skin, her amazing figure, and hey - he couldn't help but notice - slight cleavage showing. Her beautiful hands, resting on his shoulder, her slim arms, reaching out to him, and best of all : her melodic voice, calling his name, Dean revelled in it for a moment, before sitting up, and realisation washed over him. He grabbed his silver knife, jumped upand slashed her arm. She wasn't a shifter. He shoved her backwards into the trough of holy water. She wasn't a demon. He gripped her arms and lifted her up, looking deep at her. She wasn't a mirage.

"Am I...dead?" He asked her, confusion and hurt smacking into him. Hurt because, she couldn't be real. Hurt because, this punch in his gut was from looking at her wonderful face, but also knowing that he would wake up soon, or she would turn, and he would have to deal with her death all over again. Hurt, finally, because she whipped around and slapped his face hard, stinging all over his face.

"What?" He said. He meant to be angry, but all he could do was drink in her appearance, voice and stance, and try and take in as much detail before she vanished. She, however, had blood dripping down her arm, was soaking wet, and - damn. She couldn't deny the joy that came from seeing him. And the way his eyes latched onto hers, those amazing, unreal green eyes that she could stare into for ever - if she wasn't busy telling him off.

"You. Just. Cut. Soaked. And. Grabbed. Me. You deserve a slap frankly." She said, cuffing his ear. He still looked at her, a man who has been in the dark for years, stepping into the sun. Trying to see how real she was, if his eyes were just deceiving him. If he had finally gone mad. But the madness was preferable to the pain before, so he played along. "Jo." He whispered, roughly. "You're dead. So why are we here?" Something in Jo broke a little at the plain hurt in his face. She had never seen him so open. So easy to read, he was hurting. And he missed her, and beyond anything he wanted to believe she was real.

She took a step in, and gently stroked his stubbly face, his rough cheeks, his perfect skin. "I'm back. For real. I'm alive. Something, or someone brought me back. Mum as well. For like. Three months now. You had vanished. But I'm here now, and real. And alive. And so are you." With that, she gripped his hand, and brought it to lie flat on her chest, he could feel her heart, beating steady. He looked straight into her eyes, and she looked back. He decided he wasn't mad after all. Maybe this was reality, as no madness could create this much tension, excitement and longing. They stood, locked in this position, for what felt like a long time. Jo seemed to breathe in a nervous sigh, that hitched in her throat. "Your heart rate is speeding up." Dean said, in his deep voice. Jo leaned in, and said, with an almost steady voice, "Thats because I'm nervous about what I'm about to do next." Before Dean could question her, she put one hand around his back, one against his face, and pushed him back against the wooden walls of the small house. Without thinking, she leaned in, and passionately kissed him.

Dean gripped her face, and kissed her back, hard. One hand then slid down the side of her body, and rested on her hip, the other curled around her neck, crushing her face to his. They stood, kissing each other hard, running their hand though each others hair, over one another's body, and while catching a breath here and there, whispering each others names. Jo leaned in more, crushing herself against his hard, muscled chest and stomach. He nibbled on her lip gently, while stroking down her back. She moaned into his mouth, and he responded by tilting her chin and kissing her neck. His hands now rested on her ribcage, and hers ran through his perfect, sandy hair. She wanted him, and she knew she did, and something inside told her that he wanted her as well, a lot. Or...it might not have been something inside - it could possibly have been the impact of his whole body tightening against her as she continued to kiss him, that could have been a pointer. She pulled back still feeling his hair, and chuckled lightly. Her arms crossed around his neck, stooping him down, bringing her, and her quickly rising chest, closer to his face.

"Dammit Winchester, you've still got it." She said, her nose touching his, breathing heavily. He gave a throaty laugh, and pecked her lips gently.

"Jo. You can't say.." He leant in and gave her a longer kiss. "...anything, when you could be kissing me like this." She winked and whispered to him, right in his ear. "We could always do more than kiss Dean." Dean groaned and pulled her face around to his, and kissed her again. She still had him up against the wall, fingers tripping down his muscled stomach. One hand slid slowly inside and down the front of his jeans. Dean gasped as he realised what she was about to do. "Jo." He moaned. She leaned up, as her hand slid down, and kissed his ear, the side of his face, and again, his lips. Jo was just about to make the contact Dean was longing for when another car engine sounded and pulled into the drive.

They both froze, looking at each other, surprise, panic and lust, mixing into a strange whirlwind of emotions, slowing their reactions down. A car door slammed, making Dean jolt, almost...out of his body? Jo's face started to fade. He reached out of or her but too late.

"Dean!" Sam stood shaking Dean's shoulder. "Dean wake up!" Dean groaned, and sat up from the porch steps. He looked around him, fear and panic leaping into his eyes. "Jo!" He yelled, jumping up and looking around. He grabbed Sam. "Where is she Sam? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" He screamed, digging his nails into Sam's shoulders. Sam shook his head, pity flooding through his face.

"She was never here Dean." He whispered. Dean backed away, looking like a trapped animal.

"NO!" He said. "No." Sam nodded. Dean forced back the huge lump in his throat, and whispered. "You mean that... All this was fake? It was a dream?" Sam gripped Deans arms. He said he was sorry. Dean's perfect face crumpled once more, and he dissolved into tears. No matter that Sam was here. He had lost his Joanna Beth for a second time. Sam hugged Dean, standing on the porch steps, tearing up as he saw Dean lose control.

"I've got you big brother." He whispered. Dean continued to cry, and he sank to the floor, dragging Sam with him. Dean cried into his brothers shoulder for a small eternity.

"It was all a dream Sammy." He choked. "She was just a dream."


End file.
